


Insomnia

by somedingus



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Gen, Insomnia, jason doesn't adjust well his first few months in wayne manor, let them be together, the real ship is jason todd/his bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedingus/pseuds/somedingus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The clock next to him is blinking 12:00 in bright red, reminding him to set the real time. The clock down the hall chimes twice.</p>
<p>Jason could set the clock now to 2AM and get it out of the way, but he feels a sort of need to prove some point to himself and focuses on that. Maybe that if he can’t even sleep in a good bed he can’t exist in the Wonderful World of Wayne Manor™, as he liked to call it. But that’s dumb, so he stops before he even starts.</p>
<p>But then he starts again.</p>
<p>It’s all too nice for him to exist here, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

He can’t sleep like this.

The bed is too soft and too big. The moonlight shining through the small opening in the curtains is too bright. It’s too warm, the vent provided heat foreign to Jason in winter. It’s too quiet; all he can hear is the ticking of the clock down the hall reminding him just how many seconds he’s been trying to sleep but can’t. 9,120 seconds. 9,121. 9, 123. 9,124.

It’s all too _nice_ for him to sleep here.

This feels too uncomfortable, having, well, comforts. He can’t ask for a smaller bed because, honestly, who _does_ that? Having no bed is out of the question, and how would Alfred react to him just sleeping on the floor every night? You can only accidently fall out of bed so many times.

Jason used to sleep on the ground, next to a dumpster or in some abandoned building. The only barrier between him and the cold, hard ground was a small baby blanket he found in an alleyway once. He used to be lulled to sleep by the sound of distant gun shots and police sirens, thugs making drug deals and people screaming at their own delusions. He used to sleep in total darkness, only a single flickering lamppost visible far off in the distance.

He sits in the middle of his bed, legs crossed under him, counting the seconds. 9,228. 9,229. 9,230. He should have been asleep 9,231 seconds ago. It’s driving him nuts but it’s not like he has anything better to do. 9,238. No books to read, no friends to hang out with, no homework to do, no phone or laptop to google random questions on until he either falls asleep or the sun rises.

9,301.

The clock next to him is blinking 12:00 in bright red, reminding him to set the real time. The clock down the hall chimes twice.

Jason could set the clock now to 2AM and get it out of the way, but he feels a sort of need to prove some point to himself and focuses on that. Maybe that if he can’t even sleep in a good bed he can’t exist in the Wonderful World of Wayne Manor™, as he liked to call it. But that’s dumb, so he stops before he even starts.

But then he starts again.

It’s all too nice for him to exist here, after all.

He flops on his back, staring at the blank white wall until he becomes restless again. It’s hopeless trying to sleep in such a soft bed. Impossible, maybe. Jason tosses and turns; maybe if he lays just right, he can finally relax and sleep and take his first step to existing with basic necessities.

Jason shifts his position every five minutes, searching for the right one. The Clock down the hall chimes three times. He wonders if there’s any point in trying to sleep now. Bruce will be up in about two hours and at this rate he’ll still be awake, trying to figure out how to sleep on a soft mattress in (almost) dead silence.

10,890.

Maybe Bruce won’t let him be Robin if he can’t even sleep. It takes a lot of energy to fight crime every night, and Jason has a feeling downing energy drinks isn’t a thing he can do as either a vigilante or a rich person’s son. The thought is incentive enough.

That is, until other reasons he can’t be Robin come to mind. He makes a mental list.

  1. He smokes on average five cigarettes a day
  2. He is 4’6 and 99% sure criminals can just pick him up and move him out of the way when fighting him
  3. He’s a fucking idiot and will probably break his leg his first night as Robin
  4. He has trouble listening to directions he doesn’t want to follow
  5. He spends his nights making lists about things wrong with himself instead of sleeping even when it’s 3:53 in the morning



He wonders what Bruce’s punishments are like. Growing up, the only punishments he was aware of was getting beaten with a belt, but surely Bruce wouldn’t do something like that. Jason’s heard of kids getting their cellphones taken away or not being allowed to hang out with friends. Maybe when Bruce gives him a phone he’ll take it away when he’s not behaving the way Bruce expects or maybe not let him be Robin for a week or—

Jesus Christ this is making his heart tense so he stops, and Jesus Christ, his mind is just one big run-on sentence and it doesn’t want to shut up or slow down and it’s driving him fucking _nuts_.

Maybe it could slow the absolute fuck down if that goddamn Clock stopped ticking so loud.

He wonders if there’s, like, a switch. To stop that ticking. Maybe he could ask Alfred tomorrow (today?) if he can shut that thing up forever.

And, yeah, it would be amazing if that’s how clocks worked.

But Jason is 99% sure that is _not_ how clocks worked.

Jason thinks he might be able to fall asleep if that fucking Clock stopped ticking every single second. Total silence is better than _almost_ total silence.

10,910.

10,911.

10,912.

10,913.

10,914.

And so on.

Decorative pillows act as shields to block out the tick-tick-ticking of the Clock Down the Hall from Jason’s ears and maybe if he gets in just the right spot—

Yes.

Holy fucking shit, _yes_.

It’s uncomfortable, just like home. His shoulder curving and pressing into his collarbone as he lays on his side, legs tangled in sheets and the comforter, twisting his spine in a way that doesn’t hurt but will probably do some long-term damage.

The Clock chimes four and Jason’s mind is slowing down, his heart beating at a calm pace, his muscles slowly releasing tension, and for just a few hours he is calm and quiet and safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not good at titles and also not good at sleeping when I need to. I wrote this instead of studying for finals last week.
> 
> I just have this idea where Jason thinks he doesn't really deserve some of the nice things he has/gets, but tries not to show it. I don't know, it kind of just goes along with my headcanon that Jason has BPD and that he's mostly in the manic state not the depressive state.


End file.
